


dancing in the wind

by shell-heads (chocopies)



Series: Cap/IM Bingo [8]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16029812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocopies/pseuds/shell-heads
Summary: Captain America, brave and true, they all say. Captain America, who stands for justice and equality, they all praise. Captain America, who has never once been truly brave in all the moments it truly mattered."I could teach you to dance," Tony offered, his smile entrancing and forcing something in Steve's lungs to fall apart."No, thank you," Steve had said, even as every single bit of him ached to say yes, because he was cowardly and a liar and never smart enough to grab onto the things that were important. No, because if he let himself dance with Tony, held those calloused hands in his and felt that warm skin against him, it would make everything too real.Stupid, to be afraid of having Tony so close when nothing hurt more than the awful truth of not having Tony at all, of maybe-maybe never having Tony again.Captain America, they don't say, stupid and cowardly and a traitor, and yet. It's true.





	dancing in the wind

**Author's Note:**

> a fill for my capim bingo slot "sway".

Wakanda is beautiful beyond words, an almost jarring contradiction of gleaming metals and dark blacks amongst nature so bright and kind it feels like coming home to a time untouched by man and their horrors; trees with greens and reds and stalks of grass that come up to Steve’s hips, a cheerful yellow that makes him think of softer, warmer things than the cold of his exile. They’re his favorite part, the dancing stalks that look so similar to the swish of his mother’s fair hair as she worked herself away in the house. 

Out of everywhere in Wakanda, these fields-the ones far from the bountiful forests and glorious mountains and shining cities that put his own home to shame-are what draw him in, and what keep him staring and staring and staring without pause. The wind comes and goes, but everytime the air rushes past him through the millions of golden yellow giants, they dance for him again, happy and sweet in the dry heat of the sun. Left and right, they fold backwards with a gentle curve, and it lulls Steve into a headspace that’s not the harsh flickering lights of an arc reactor failing as he carries a staggering Bucky outside a freezing HYDRA base, brown eyes so wide and deep with betrayal they resemble a black hole of pain.

Here, with the wind and endless yellows so alight underneath the blue skies, his sweaty hair gently whipping around his face, the hurt hides itself in a place far away. Here, there is no suffocating grief, no thick cloud of anxiety, no loathing to drown himself in. 

Here, there is only him, and the shining sun, and the sway of flaxen life around him, taking far, far away from the icy whites and blues of lands that haunt him in his waking dreams. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never danced before,” Tony’s saying in his mind’s tired eye, shaking his head over a cup of coffee while Steve shrugs self-consciously. “I mean, come on-it was the 1940’s, Cap. I didn’t think there was a person alive who didn’t dance back then.”

“Nope, just me,” Steve agrees, shading in the stubble along Tony’s jaw and sighing when Tony’s stare on him burns a hole into his forehead. “Thought maybe one day I’d try taking it up, but it doesn’t seem for me.”

And it hurts too much to think about dancing, he doesn’t say, when I never got to have that first dance; Tony’s known him long enough to see between the lines. 

“Sure, sure, not everyone can dance,” Tony hums pensively, slurping more coffee and spinning around in his chair before stopping himself flat and smiling at Steve, something brave about the curve of his lips when he looks up that makes Steve’s fingers stutter over paper. “I could teach you, though.”

“What?” Steve whispers, entranced by the way Tony’s smile is an invitation and an understanding and a gift all at once, his breath caught in his chest. 

“You might not be any good at real dancing, but I can at least show you how to slow dance,” Tony tells him with a shrug, one leg bouncing up and down repeatedly. “It’s pretty much just swaying side to side, so even the hopeless can figure it out. Besides, what’s the use of having ten years of dance lessons underneath your belt if you never get to use them to help Captain America?”

He’s teasing now, grinning around the rim of his coffee with his brown eyes twinkling and voice warm, and Steve feels dizzy with fright at the possibilities he’s being offered here, the pencil dangerously close to snapping underneath the unwatched pressure of his tight fingers. 

“No, thanks-I’d like to avoid getting sent your hospital bill in the mail,” Steve hears himself say, his voice completely devoid of the panic and immediate regret swallowing him whole, terrified of what might happen if he says ‘yes’; of what it would mean if he stood and took Tony’s hands in his, pressed them together and spun around the workshop in the bright lights above them, intimate and slow and all the things he’s ever wanted and never been able to have. 

All the things he’s never been able to admit he wants. 

“Cap,” comes a quiet voice, breaking him out of his spiderweb of sticky memories and lost moments. “Time to go.”

Taking in a deep breath, Steve opens his eyes and meets Sam’s solemn gaze with his own, sitting up and staring at the fields before him one last time. 

“I should have said yes,” Steve whispers to himself, ignoring the confused twist to Sam’s mouth when he moves to stand.

There’s a lot of things he should have done, when he had the chance. A lot of things he should have been smart enough to hold onto with both hands, desperate and determined and unfailing.

Captain America might be brave and true, but Steve Rogers...he's nothing but a cowardly liar.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> as always, feel free to leave me a comment or drop by my tumblr [@shell-heads](https://shell-heads.tumblr.com)


End file.
